Baseball Bat
by BlackMoonWhiteSky
Summary: Because, sometimes, imprinting was a little less 'She is all that holds you to the Earth' and a little more 'Like a Baseball Bat to the head'. OC x Paul
1. Many Unhappy Returns

Because, sometimes, imprinting was a little less 'She is all that holds you to the Earth' and a little more 'Like a Baseball Bat to the head'. OC x Paul

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, for the record, I dislike Twilight. Only book I like was the second one, <strong>(Even though I read them all- I'm one of those people that really hate not knowing what's going on and some of my friends were really into it, so... It's been a while though, so my details and timeline are a bit scrambled, and I'm taking a certain level of creative freedom with it.)** and that's because Bella is so pathetic that I was actually laughing as I read it. Legitimately. And, yeah, I realize that makes me a kind of terrible human being. I'm sorry, but that's not something I feel the need to apologize for. **("But you just apologized!" Yeah, because I can't find it within me **to** apologize. I'm weird like that.)

**That said, I, unfortunately, have a thing for Werewolves/Bad-boys and Paul is hot. So…**

**Also, warning, there is cussing in abundance in this story, because 1-Paul and 2-my OC kinda has a potty mouth when stressed, which is a lot, especially in the beginning here...**

* * *

><p><strong>Baseball Bat<strong>

**The First Song: Many Unhappy Returns.**

* * *

><p>Jared could be so annoying sometimes. Actually, he was annoying most of the time- ever since he'd imprinted on Kim. Not that Paul had anything against Kim, but it was a pain listening to his best friend's pathetically love-struck thoughts. Especially since those thoughts were not always of the PG-rated variety. Really, it made him feel so fucking gross sometimes- to go on patrol with the wolves that had imprinted was a true trial, it made him really hate the telepathic link the wolves shared.<p>

For once though, Jared was not annoying because of his imprint-revolving thoughts. No, he was annoying because, well…

"Leah confirmed it, she saw the boxes herself. Your girlfriend is officially moving back to Forks." This was said with a teasing smile that had Paul clenching his teeth.

"That… **Thing** is _**not**_ my girlfriend."

"Yeah, but you wish she was. You've been yanking on her pigtails from day one." That second part was true, in that they had been at odds from the moment they met. She was infuriating and ridiculous and she drove Paul absolutely bat-shit insane.

That did _**not**_ mean that he liked her.

In fact, those were all the reasons that he couldn't stand her, and anyone that thought otherwise was completely out of their minds. This was Jared though, so even if he actually knew how much Paul disliked the girl, it wasn't really surprising that he was saying what he was. The boys got along so well because they had several similarities, the most significant in this instance- being the love of getting others worked up. Which was definitely something he was achieving.

Paul was not yet shaking with his temper, but it was clear that his anger was rising. His jaw was tight, fists clenched, eyes glaring. He was ready to lash out, and it was only his limited control that kept him from doing so. They stared each other down, Paul slowly calming the longer they stared.

And then Jared opened his big, fat mouth again.

* * *

><p>The first time Paul Lahote met Ginger Rodgers (<em>Yes, she was named after <em>_**that**__ Ginger. They had the same last name and her mother had always been a fan. It had bothered her when she was little, but she'd long ago gotten over it. After all, there were worse people she could have been named after._) he was being -_unsurprisingly_- an ass. He and Jared, though the latter was just not stopping him more than anything, were picking on a kid about two years younger than them. A five year old boy- his father was an outsider, but his mother wasn't, and so his family lived on the reservation anyways.

They were calling names, and shoving, and laughing cruelly.

He didn't even see it coming, really. One second he was giving the kid an extra hard shove, the next- he was flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him, staring up at some scrawny little white girl standing over him with a red foam baseball bat held threateningly.

It was a moment that he would **never **forget.

* * *

><p>Ginger hated small towns.<p>

Absolutely hated them.

In small towns it seemed as though everybody knew everybody else's business, and if they didn't- it was their single most important goal in life to find out. She hadn't even been back for two whole days, and she'd already lost track of the number of times she'd been asked about something she really didn't feel like sharing.

_Was she _still_ single?_

_Why did she ever move away?_

_Why had she moved back?_

_What was the city like?_

_How were her brothers?_

_Would they be moving back too?_

_Blah, blah, blah._

She hated it so much.

Ginger especially hated the smug little looks as people whispered behind their hands, saying they'd always known she wouldn't be able to make it on her own in the city, even if her brothers **were **there to keep an eye on her. As if she couldn't hear them just fine.

Nosey busybodies, the whole lot of them.

She needed it though- being in a small town. Needed to be in a small place, away from large groups of people, needed to be somewhere that had an exact body count that **could not** fluctuate by even one number without everyone and their mother knowing about it. She'd probably have a panic attack if she went back to the city. It was something she hoped to get over, of course, but that would take time. As of right now- it was way too soon.

She needed somewhere to stop and take a breather.

Somewhere to gather her wits.

If that meant her old hometown... so be it.

Never mind that she'd sworn to never come back once she got out. Never mind that she hated the fact that the whole town would know her latest fiasco within the hour of her having committed it. Never mind the fact that she was the local screw up, the odd duck, the one that would have burned at the stake just a hundred years ago.

Because, you know, God forbid she actually value her **privacy**. It was almost a sin that she had dreams that equated to leaving this Podunk town as far behind her as possible.

If one more person came snooping around under the pretense of checking to see how she was settling in... she was going to start screaming.

Maybe even drop some of the more interesting curses she'd picked up in the city- really give these ninnies something to squawk about.

_...Deep breaths..._

She had fewer boxes than when she'd left, but somehow it was taking her longer to unpack. Probably because she spent half of her time just staring at them as though it would make them, and the reason she'd moved back, simply disappear into thin air. This place... it might have been where she grew up, but it wasn't home.

Home had been destroyed rather violently several months back.

It had been destroyed in a flurry of blood and screams and tears an- _**fuck**_. She couldn't handle this shit.

Ginger dropped the box in her arms back into the truck bed and scrubbed her face with long fingered hands that were shaking. Palms pressing at her eyelids, she took deep breaths until her heart beat had calmed down.

Her parents wanted her to move back in with them, but she'd vetoed that almost the instant it'd been mentioned. Nobody knew exactly what had happened to her except for her and the people who'd done it, and she wasn't in the mood to share with the class. All they knew was that she was a wreck and that being in the city actually made her physically sick with anxiety. She was not about to sleep in their house and have to explain the screaming nightmares, she was not about to be babied.

She was a strong, independent woman, damn it! No one was going to take that from her. Not even her family.

She'd decided to compromise, though, and was currently renting out the house next door to police chief Swan. _The man with the mustache._

Swan couldn't do emotional exchanges if his life depended on it, and his ability to pick up on '_**not okay**_' vibes was practically non-existent. It made him the perfect neighbor. A respected authority figure, but someone who would stay out of her business. She could even casually drop a comment about how '**_overwhelming_**' it was to come home where everyone was so much more personal than in the city. He wouldn't do anything himself, but he often ate at the diner and that place was home to just about every gossip in town at one point or another. Would there still be way too many people trying to get into her business? Yes, but the number would probably drop by at least half.

Those that remained would be people she'd dealt with her whole life, and had mastered the handling of in the long-ago.

Another deep breath and she went back to moving boxes into the house, ignoring the way her street was suddenly rather busy for a road that didn't really go anywhere. The slam of a car door had her on alert, but a quick glance and she relaxed. It was just Swan and mini-Swan.

Although... Ginger paused, eyeing Bella up. She knew depressed when she saw it, and mini-Swan looked like she was drowning in it. Another beat and she turned back to her truck again. She valued privacy, and she wasn't a hypocrite, she'd let them deal with their own problems.

Well...

Another quick glance at Mr. Swan's completely lost expression and she decided to at least offer a friendly ear if he needed it. Raising kids was hard. Being an single man raising a teenage girl... Ginger did not envy him.

Her good deed of the year established, she returned once more to her stupid boxes.


	2. Changes Apparent

_Because, sometimes, imprinting was a little less 'She is all that holds you to the Earth' and a little more 'Like a Baseball Bat to the head'. OC x Paul_

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, here's a rather late, rather short chapter two. I hope you like it! *grins* Yeah... Ginger comes off like a bit of a bitch in this chapter... I hope it's not to an intolerable point... Anywho, read, review, enjoy!<strong>

**By the way, thanks to everyone who favorited/alerted, and special thanks to **Teddy bear 007**, **brankel1**, **WeJustPretend**, and **Muse (Guest)** for the reviews.**

* * *

><p><strong>Baseball Bat<strong>

**The Second Song: Changes Apparent.**

* * *

><p>Honestly, and maybe it was terrible of her, but honestly- when she'd thought to offer a sympathetic ear to the elder Swan, Ginger hadn't actually had any expectations for his taking her up on it. Yet, here she was, trying to look interested when, frankly, her mind had drifted off a while ago. She'd listened long enough to understand that Bella had been in her current state for nearly two months now because her boyfriend had up and vanished, leaving her in the middle of the forest.<p>

This had lead her to a couple rather obvious conclusions-

1: Bella's ex. was a total _dick_.

2: Whatever relationship they'd had was clearly unhealthy. (_She had inklings of possible __**Romeo and Juliet**__ level idiocy- though she had tact enough to refrain from saying as much to the stressed out man before her._)

3: Bella _might_ be obsessed with said ex.

And 4: The first thing that anyone should have done when the little Swan went off the rails was sit her ass down with a therapist and possibly a psychologist. (_Not that Ginger had room to talk here. She was well aware that she ought to be doing something similar, but events would not allow for her honesty without getting her locked up. And honesty was kind of key to the whole healing process... or so she'd heard- so it would have been an exercise in futility._)

Ginger waved down their waitress, indicating her need for another cup of coffee. (_They were at the only good place in town to eat out, meaning everyone and their uncle was there too. At least, that was how it felt. Some people were __**not**__ subtle with their staring._) When she turned back to the man across from her she quickly realized that he hadn't even noticed the shift in her attention. Shamefully, she did briefly consider simply getting up and relocating herself closer to the TV- which she was sure was more interesting than what was spewing from her dining companion's mouth. It was only a halfhearted contemplation though, and it drifted away from her mind almost as soon as it fluttered in.

She managed to refocus her attention just in time to catch the tail end of his rant. "-ou think I'm doing the right thing here?"

Ginger realized, with a suppressed grimace, that what he really wanted was reassurance- not her honest opinion. This was one of the many reasons she hated dealing with people.

* * *

><p>Jacob was surprised when he caught sight of Bella's father chatting with some girl in her late teens (<em>early twenties?<em>) over a meal. He was even more surprised to find that, after a moment of scrutiny, he recognized the female in question. Ginger had been his babysitter on more than one occasion over the years, but she looked very different since the last time he'd seen her.

She looked both better and worse.

She'd grown to fit her body, and for the most part she appeared comfortable in her skin. She'd gotten taller, was possibly even taller than him, but had stayed slim. She'd chopped her strawberry-blond hair short- it had an allover messy look to it, and came to a stop just below her ears, and at the back of her neck it fell almost to her shoulders at the longest point.

Her dress was casual, but warm- and he was given to remember how she always seemed to have a jacket or sweater. She had always been complaining about the cold, even in the warmth of his house. Her clothing had often reflected that state of constant chill.

It seemed that some things were not meant to change.

Ginger was wearing a carmine turtleneck, which brought out the red in her hair and gave her skin a suggestion of pink, a pair of dark jeans that were straight-legged and well-worn, suggesting a favorite pair, and a thin black zip-up hoodie, to go with her black sneakers, was tied around her waist. Her hands, when not tapping aimlessly on the tabletop before her, had a tendency to burrow into the napkin on her lap, twisting themselves into the fabric in a way that looked almost painful.

She was smiling at Charlie, a smile that Jacob remembered quite well and with great fondness.

That was really where the _looked better_ part ended.

Her eyes had the dark marks under them indicative of poor sleeping habits, and she had an almost drifting look in them. Her skin, while clear, was unhealthily pale- especially when all his memories were of her being tan and freckled from running around outside. (**Which had never really made much sense, considering how little sun they actually got.**)

Her body-language was very solid, but there was something almost defensive about the way she held herself. Those drifting eyes of hers moving in constant sweeps, her body shifting the slightest bit whenever someone close to her moved. He remembered her as a much calmer, much more carefree individual. Not the skittish creature before him.

Not that she _appeared_ skittish, but Ginger had been like family to him (**Had even been his first childhood crush, a thing Quil would never let him live down.**) so he had no trouble seeing the hidden characteristic.

The part of his mind that was all _impulsive teenage boy _wanted to storm over there and ask her what the hell had happened to her. The part that was _the kind Jacob Black_ knew better than to do something so stupid. Plus, there was a tiny part of him that was still very much afraid of her disapproving look- left over from his childhood, he was sure.

Before he could really make up his mind one way or the other, she was sweeping out the door with a tired expression on her face and then driving off. Instead, he approached a thoughtful Mr. Swan almost tentatively. To be sure- though, really, he was already sure, he asked, "Was that Ginger Rodgers just now?"

* * *

><p><em>Geez, how could a person feel so tired?<em>

Ginger actually felt bone weary. She thought she had escaped that lovely sensation when she was finally free, but apparently not. Just thinking about the Swans was draining, she was selfishly glad that she'd never really gotten involved with anyone in a romantic sense. It seemed like the fast track to a broken heart.

It couldn't be an exclusively teenage problem... her oldest brother was always fussing about his latest girl trouble. She'd yet to inform him that the only common denominator in all his failed relationships was him- honestly, she almost suspected that he **liked** being miserable. He was always making the same mistakes.

Always.

Ginger cursed, turning her attention away from her thoughts as she swerved closer to the edge of the road, glaring for a moment at the image in her rear-view mirror. The blue truck that had almost hit her was moving much too quickly and was too far over at that. She was lucky her reflexes were as good as they were.

"Prick." She grumbled.

Had she known who was behind the wheel of the other truck, she likely would have had a few more expletives to throw around- as it was, she just wanted to get home and take a nap.

* * *

><p><strong>Who wants to take a guess about who's driving the other truck? Anybody?<strong>


End file.
